Page 92 of A Single Thread of Moonlight

He was kissing me, and I was kissing him, and we were laughing, and it was heaven. He kissed my lips, my jaw, the spot behind my ear where I didn’t know I had needed him to kiss me, and my hands were on his shoulders, my fingers brushed the sandpaper of his jawline, my lips touched the hollow at the base of his throat, where I could feel his heart beating as fast as my own.

Finally, we pulled apart, breathing ragged, eyes wide as we stared at each other.

“Well,” he said, attempting to straighten a tie he wasn’t wearing. “I hope I have made my feelings plain.”

I tipped my head back and laughed, and Nick smiled.

A wide, wicked smile, just for me.

CHAPTER THIRTY-SIX

And just like that, everything had changed.

When I went back to my room I hugged the secret knowledge of what had passed between us to my chest. It wasn’t just the kissing – though, goodness, the kissing – it was the feeling of having someone on my side. Someone who knew all of my secrets and was still there, next to me. It was a new feeling – or an old one, one I barely remembered.

When I finally fell asleep, I didn’t dream at all. I knew nothing of the world until Matilda appeared several hours later, shaking my shoulder gently to wake me.

“Miss,” she whispered. “Miss, wake up.”

“What is it?” I sat up, suddenly awake, panic beating a loud tattoo in my chest.

“It’s Lord Wynter, miss, he asked me to wake you,” Matilda said softly. “He wanted to see you before the others were up.”

It was music to my ears. The panic stilled inside me as I remembered that I wasn’t alone. Today I had Nick.

“We’ll work it all out,” he had promised me last night. “Together.”

When I saw that Matilda was pulling out my riding habit, my spirits soared even higher. Let Helena do her worst – today I felt invincible.

The sun was barely up as I approached the stables, the early morning light pouring across a delicate mist, like rolling clouds of airy tulle. Nick was waiting for me outside, and I felt overcome with an unfamiliar shyness. When I looked at him I saw what everyone else saw: his tall figure, immaculately turned out in a navy-blue riding jacket, dark trousers and shining boots, his inky hair neatly arranged, his easy posture, his sharp cheekbones and strong jaw, those lazy blue eyes and the firm, unsmiling mouth.

But I saw other things now too. I saw the curl in his hair, that made it unruly, and I knew the way it felt, silk between my fingers. I knew how he looked when he smiled, really smiled, and the way the corners of those blue eyes creased. I knew what it was to see them lit with laughter, lit with something else when he looked at me.

It was strange, this intimacy, this way of knowing someone in a different way.

“Good morning,” he said.

“Early morning,” I replied. “I know how you feel about those.”

He grimaced. “Yes, terrible isn’t it?” He gestured around at the beautiful, gently glowing view. “But I thought you and I had better talk. This seemed the best way.”

“Of course,” I said, twisting my hands together, momentarily stumped as to how to continue the conversation.

“I’d just like to make sure…” Nick began, “that your recollection of last night is the same as mine. Between the idea of you walking through walls and the really quite excellent ending to the encounter, I woke up this morning concerned it had all been a dream.”

“Walking through walls?” I tilted my head to the side. “Lord Wynter, I’ve asked before and I’ll ask again, were you ever dropped on the head as a child? You do have some peculiar ideas.”

A smile touched his lips. “Very peculiar, indeed,” he agreed. “But I think, this time, entirely correct.”

I smiled too. “So, not a dream, then?”

“No.” His voice was low. “Not a dream.”

We were interrupted then by Jensen, who appeared, leading out both the horses that had been saddled.

I was already moving forward, because there, tossing her head and dancing with barely suppressed eagerness, was Asteria, saddled and ready. I moved towards her, took her head in my hands, and she stilled – just for a moment – long enough for me to rest my forehead against hers. To breathe.

“I can ride her?” I asked.